Caution: Wet Floor
by 8moonflower8
Summary: Non-Powered AU. Erik is stuck in a middle-management rut in his boring office job. He would have quit long ago, if not for the cleaner with no sense of personal space and an abundance of yellow dusters. Sexy and slightly cracky office times ensue.


**AN: It occurred to me the other day that Erik and Charles are always either hookers, or in some position of authority, like their canon selves, or cops, professors etc. Don't get me wrong, I love them this way. But I was interested to see what would happen if I messed this up and gave them more mundane jobs. Introducing cleaner!Charles. The result was this weird-ass cracky office sex thing. I apologize.**

Erik was about ready to off himself. More accurately, he was ready to off everybody else employed by this sorry establishment and stand atop the heap of dead bodies, smoking gun in hand. Regretfully, he didn't think he was quite up for a life on the run, so once again he took the responsible option and reached for the pile of neglected paperwork lurking on his desk.

He_ had_ been efficient, almost enthusiastic (almost, mind) when he'd first taken the job a few years back. But then it had been new, a challenge. Now he was stuck in middle management, and found he couldn't care less about the shipping costs of steel and the endless paperwork that came with it. Why doesn't he pack it in then? – I hear you ask – leave the interns to their gossiping and paper aeroplanes made from invoices and find a new choice of career. (Although he's not entirely sure what that would be; the only thing his careers advisor in college had been able to recommend was super-villain.)

There was one reason Erik hadn't yet ditched his unsatisfactory job, and it was about to open his office door.

"Oh hello." Erik looked up sharply at the sound of the other man's voice. "Working late again? That's the third time this week."

"Mmhmm." Wow, that was articulate, well done Erik.

"Well," smiled the cleaner, dragging his cart of spray bottles, buckets and brushes in with him, "don't let me disturb you. I'll be as quick as I can."

Erik said nothing, but continued to pretend to read the report in front of him, wondering if there was some telepathic way he could let the cleaner know he'd much rather he took his time.

Two and a half weeks ago, Erik had actually been having quite a good day. For him, a good day was Alex not locking Hank in the cupboard and trying to blame Sean for it when Erik started yelling. This day was going even better than most, because he hadn't had to speak to anyone at all. Yet. Of course, his peace and quiet all went to shit when Angel burst in, saying she'd completely cocked up the invoices she'd sent yesterday, and trying to shift the blame to Alex. Hank was quick to side with Angel, until Alex gave him a look clearly stating he'd lock him in the supply cupboard from now till New Years if he didn't shut up. Then Darwin appeared to watch the show, and Sean joined in, shouting louder than everyone else combined, and Erik flipped his shit.

What followed was a thorough yelling-at, laced with curse words strong enough to make Hank blush and Angel look mildly impressed. Feeling like the vein in his forehead was about to burst, Erik switched off his shouting, and told them in his lowest, most dangerous voice to get the fuck out of his office so he could stay on late and sort out their mistakes. They murmured apologies Erik knew would be forgotten by tomorrow and shuffled out, leaving his pile of desperately boring paperwork even larger, and him wondering why the hell their tiny company needed so many goddamn interns.

It was just after eight and everyone else had presumably cleared out, leaving Erik to nurse his fifth coffee and ponder how Angel had managed to fuck up so spectacularly. That is until the door swung open rather violently, causing Erik to jump and fling half his coffee across the desk. The intruder abruptly stopped singing his own bizarre rendition of Take That and grabbed a yellow duster from his back pocket before rushing over. His shoulder bumped Erik's as he mopped at the sodden papers and apologised profusely.

"I'm so, so sorry. Everybody's usually gone home by now. Actually, this is the first time I've seen anybody stay late and I've been working here nearly two years. Ugh," he stopped his babbling and scooped up the dripping mess of papers, "I think these may be beyond salvage."

"Yes." Said Erik, at a total loss of what was going on. He'd grown to think of the office cleaners as mythical beings, only emerging at twilight to dispose of junk food wrappers and empty coffee cups before disappearing without a trace by morning, leaving nothing but a faint scent of bleach behind. "Just throw them out."

"Alright." The cleaner dropped them in the trash with a wet thunk, and turned to face him with the most ridiculous blue eyes Erik had ever seen. Not that he was looking. "I really am sorry. I hope it wasn't anything too important."

It was, but Erik lacked the levels of enthusiasm required for his job to care. "It was nothing."

"Good." The man gifted him with a small smile. "Would you like me to...?" he gestured to the desk.

"Oh, yes." Erik began to gather up his coat and fling a few random undamaged papers into his briefcase. "I should be going now anyway."

The cleaner nodded and moved forward to start wiping down the desk. He was entirely too close for comfort as Erik stood to leave, catching a whiff of cold tea and pine disinfectant as he read the nametag: Charles. He had almost reached the door when Charles called out a breezy "Have a good evening," not looking up from his work.

"Err, you too." Erik fumbled with the doorknob, finding it embarrassingly hard to look away from the man bent over scrubbing his desk, with too-tight jeans and the yellow duster stuck carelessly in the back pocket.

And it was this chance encounter that led Erik to where he was now – making up hopelessly transparent excuses to stay late at work in order to spend quality time eyeing up the cleaner. Well, it wasn't like he had a lot else going on, besides overly lengthy showers and shouting at CSI re-runs. Charles had probably noticed it too, Erik was hardly subtle. Oh well. Since it was probably too late to salvage his dignity, he might as well make a complete and utter arse of himself on the off chance he'd get a good fuck.

"Charles," the man in question looked up from mopping the scuffed linoleum, "I feel awfully rude. We've been working together for some time now, and I know nothing about you."

The cleaner snorted with laughter and swung the mop back into the bucket. "I scrub you desk when you're done pretending to work at it all day. I hardly call that working together. Besides," he bent to drag out a box of disposable rubber gloves from the bottom tray of the cart, and Erik couldn't help but follow the curve of his back with his eyes, "we've both been working here for years without even knowing of each other's existence. Why now?"

Because you're ridiculously attractive and how the hell did I not see you sooner? "Why not? Humour me."

Charles rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, carefully easing clean rubber gloves on to his hands. Erik tried not to stare. "Fine. My name is Charles Francis Xavier. I'm currently employed as a cleaner, as you know. I live with my sister, in a smallish apartment on the edge of town, where we both fail spectacularly at keeping house plants. I want to get a cat, but my sister won't let me. I subscribe to five magazines, four of them science-based, the other knitting patterns. I like to play chess, but Raven's hideous at it, so I don't often get the chance. How's that?"

Erik realised he was grinning, was not in the dangerous way he saved to make the interns squirm. "Perfection. I'm Erik Lehnsherr, and I would be more than happy to play chess with you sometime." He chose to keep the 'and fuck you senseless over this desk you just polished' to himself.

"How about now?"

"What?" It took Erik a moment to remember they were talking about chess.

"There's a stack of board games in the supply cupboard down the hall – there might be a chess board if we're lucky."

Erik frowned. "Why on earth are there board games in the supply cupboard?" He wanted to blame Alex, but doubted the boy had the brain capacity for the strategy required for board games. Also, he seemed like the kind of kid who liked to blow stuff up rather than play Uno.

Charles shrugged. "No idea. But I'll go look, shall I?" He peeled off his gloves and pinged them at Erik with a grin before darting from the room. And Erik wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

Five minutes later, Charles came back with dust smudged up his arm and a tattered box in one hand. "It was the closest thing I could find." He dropped the checkers set on Erik's desk. "It was either this or monopoly, and in my experience, nine out of ten times monopoly ends in tears and/or murder."

Erik set up the game as Charles took a seat on the other side of the desk. "It'll do. We can find something better for nest time."

"Next time?"

Erik said nothing, but raised his eyebrows and gestured for Charles to pick a colour. He did, and they play. For a while, they did so in companionable silence, though Erik was unable to stop himself stealing glances at the other man, watching his lips pursed in thought, his fingers pushing the little disks around the board. Charles took another of Erik's pieces, and cleared his throat. "So, exactly when are you planning to kiss me, if you don't mind me asking?"

Erik spent a minute or two choking on his own breath before managing to force out a strangled "What?"

"Oh Erik don't be so ridiculous. I'm afraid you're the most obvious person I've ever met. Don't think I haven't noticed you staying later more and more often, or staring every time I bend over." There was a light in his eyes that made Erik suspect Charles may have been bending over an excessive amount on purpose. "And then there's the fact that you've been looking at me like you're going to eat me or the past twenty minutes."

Ahh. "...So you noticed that?"

Charles laughed, and it was completely fucking adorable. Of course it was. "I'm afraid so, my friend. So, are you going to kiss me, or not?"

"I – " Yes, oh God please yes, his mind screamed, but he could hardly just stand up and go kiss him now could he? Way to make things awkward Charles. The cleaner shook his head in amusement, and claimed Erik's last piece from the board.

"I win. Now, what is my reward for beating you so thoroughly?" Not waiting for an answer, Charles stood and moved to the other side of the desk, swinging one leg over to straddle Erik where he still sat in his desk chair. He brought one hand to the back of Erik's head, curling firmly into his hair, before pressing their mouths together. Charles got straight to the point – there was no gentle brushing of lips or asking permission, instead teeth nipping at Erik's lip and a tongue slipping inside his mouth. This pulled Erik from his stupor, and he moved his hands to Charles' back, pressing them closer and forcefully returning the kiss. A delicious moan came from deep within Charles throat, and Erik mentally kicked himself for not doing this sooner. He broke free to tug Charles' sweater over his head and fling it away, then unbuttoning Charles' wrinkled shirt, mouthing at his neck as he did so.

"Ugh, fucking hell Erik. One would think you made a habit of seducing your cleaners."

Erik didn't reply, but grinned against Charles' now slightly bruised and bitten collar bone before kissing his way down his chest. The noise Charles made when Erik ran his tongue over a nipple... Christ. Erik didn't usually enjoy overly vocal bed-partners, but this he could get used to. He could feel Charles' hardness pressed against his own where he straddled him, and cursed the fabric separating them as he thrust up.

Charles jumped off his lap, and for a moment Erik was afraid he'd scared him off, but then Charles pushed his knees apart, and knelt on the floor in front of him. Erik looked down at Charles, wondering what the fuck he could have done to deserve this as clever fingers worked open his trousers.

"Oh my," Charles murmured, seemingly to himself as he took in the thick outline of Erik's cock through his underwear, "where have you been hiding that?"

Erik wasn't sure if he was meant to answer that or not, but Charles chose that moment to breathe over his prick and any coherent thoughts abandoned him. Charles' fingers pressed hard into Erik's thighs, keeping them apart as he began to mouth at his cock.

"Holy fucking shit Charles." It took every ounce of restraint not to thrust up against that mouth, that tongue. He couldn't take it much longer; he was painfully hard and his underwear soaking wet from Charles' ministrations. He pushed Charles back and stood up, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and turning him around, so his back was flush against Erik's chest. He leant forward slowly, so Charles was bent over his desk, Erik fitting tight against his back. He caught Charles' wrists and held them together in one hand above his head. He choked out a groan and Erik filed away the fact that Charles apparently enjoyed being restrained for further use. Kinky. He brought his other hand to Charles' crotch, cupping him roughly before tugging his jeans open and sliding his hand into Charles' underwear. He hissed at Erik's cold hand and turned to meet him for a kiss, heads at awkward angles and teeth knocking. It was wet and messy, and Erik was thoroughly enjoying himself. He broke the kiss to push Charles harder against the desk, removing his hand from his cock to wriggle Charles' jeans down further. He thrust his still-clothed cock against Charles' ass, and bloody fuck that wonderful. Charles pushed back against him, and Erik brought his hand back around to resume stroking Charles off. Apparently he wasn't quite sure what to do with that – should he rock forwards into Erik's hand or back on to his cock? He settled for both in a slightly off rhythm that suggested to Erik that he'd done this before. The thought of someone else touching Charles pissed Erik off a little; he pushed Charles harder against the desk and thrust faster, mouthing at the back of his neck.

"What the FUCK?!"

They froze and snapped their heads up to look at the open door. Alex and Hank were standing there under the fluorescent tube lights, Alex looking vaguely pissed off and Hank like he'd turn to stone if he looked directly at them, his gaze fixed on Erik's ankle.

"The fuck are you two doing here?" Erik really should have stood up and tried to preserve some dignity, but instead tightened his grip around Charles. Hell, he'd already been caught in his office with his pants down, there didn't seem much point in hiding it.

"We could ask you the same thing." Hank had managed to tear his eyes away from them to stare at the floor, but Alex was more stubborn. Bastard.

"What the fuck does it look like we're doing, you little shit?" Honestly, Erik had spent months trying to get the damn interns to put some more time in, and the day they finally decide to has to be the same day he's got the cleaner bent over the desk with his cock in his hands. It was still there, actually.

"So," Alex now looked mildly confused, "it's inappropriate for us to text or eat lunch at our desks, but it's perfectly fine for you to fuck some guy over yours?"

"I think you'll find," Erik ground out, "that we are technically not fucking." The 'thanks to you' went unsaid. "Now get the fuck out." He straightened up to grab the stapler from his desk and fling it at them, taking a sadistic pleasure in the look of fear on their faces as they scuttled away. He turned back to see the newly released Charles doing up his jeans. He couldn't help but be a little disappointed to see the man fully clothed again.

"Well," Charles asked when Erik made no movement, "are you coming or not?"

It doesn't look like it, he thought, before catching up with what Charles was actually asking him. "What? Coming where?"

Charles didn't reply straight away, but stalked over to the door, knowing full well that Erik was staring at his ass. "I have a proper chess board at home. Fancy a game?"


End file.
